


A New Cycle Execrpt One

by PinkButter



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Cats, Cross-Posted on deviantArt, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kid Fic, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Murder, Slice of Life, Sociopathy, Strong Sibling Bond, Warrior Cats, because of personality changes, everyone knows, for like two seconds, kind of?, mentions of animal death, mudpatch gets interupted every two seconds, mudpatch is openly a murder, mudpatch is unintentionaly like dexer morgan, scientific examination, sociopathic perspective, warrior OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:12:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkButter/pseuds/PinkButter
Summary: Mudpatch wakes thinking this will be just another day, but then is shown something that completely subverts his expectations.Testing the waters to see if ya'll would like this stuff. It's an AU where all the Dark Forest cats get reincarnated. If people like it, I'll start posting the actual fic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF MURDER AND ANIMAL DEATH
> 
> If you guys can guess who is reincarnated from who I'll give you a cookie.

Mudpatch awoke quite abruptly with a drop of water on his left temple, slightly puzzled that he had actually dreamed that night. He normally just closed his eyes and then reopened them several hours later. It was, like usual for the rare dreams he did have, in the familiar grey void. However, he was running in extreme slow motion towards a sapling while the shrill shrieks of an unknown creature sounded all around him with no source. That seemed awfully like some strange omen to him, and he would need to ask Dapplestream about it next time he had a chance to speak to her.

He then took a minute to assess his surroundings. He obviously knew where he was, having fallen asleep in the same spot the previous night. But the quick look around and spreading out of his senses told him a few things. One: it had rained recently, from the water dripping on his head and the lack of rain sounding on the rock face told him it had stopped within thirty minutes depending on how heavy it had been. A shame he missed the storm, the way clouds and water were whipped about was quite fascinating. Two: it was around an hour from sun high, the crack in the wall showed a bit of the sun around the jagged, branching sub-crack where Spliteyes had rammed Zagthunder into said wall. Three: There was an apprentice in the den that wanted to see him. The fear-stink and hesitant paw falls were a dead giveaway. 

“What do you need, Pondpaw?” Mudpatch questioned in his default monotone. The little red and white harpy seemed surprised that he knew she was there for him. She really made it too obvious, but then again she was a terrible warrior and even worse at masking her fear in the face of danger than most apprentices who were just starting. Most of her peers had graduated a moon ago or more, while she, lagged behind at a disappointing fourteen moons. 

She squeaked in surprise and kept her too-soft eyes to to floor, seemingly being interested in the little pieces of leaf-litter, discarded moss, and tiny patches of grass that were randomly placed throughout the den. “Uhm…” she started. Mudpatch sighed at the lack of confidence in the next generation. “D-Dapplestream asked to see…” she trailed off, fur puffing up slightly more. Great. He could ask her about that strange dream.

He got up mechanically and disinterested with no words or acknowledgment of what she said. Pondpaw hesitated, as if she didn't know what that meant by now, and then made a decision to sprint out of the warrior's den like Houndpaw and her former pack where behind her. Mudpatch blinked slowly as she raced away. Her fear, while technically justified, was redundant as he had no probable reason to take her of all cats. If he had been influenced by emotions more or Flaxfire had been his superior and so ordered it, he would take her. But the crime of being dead weight wasn't relevant enough to dispose of her.

Mudpatch smoothly slipped out of the warriors den into the camp. The sun, as earlier established, was still climbing into the sky. The large grassy tufts were free of dew and there was a cool breeze on the air. It was quite pleasant. The medicine cat den was on the other side of the camp, but his sister was not waiting in the entrance-way. That meant it wasn't urgent and he had a bit of time. So, he strode silently to the fresh-kill pile and selected a nice mockingbird. It’s grey and black feather were fluffed out as rigor mortis was setting in, and he gently prodded the right keel with his left paw. As it was closer to the wing than not, that moved the supracoracoideus muscle and twitched it's wing. Fascinating. 

There was a heavy rustling and the sounds of two loud and over-zealous voices approached and then entered the camp. He didn't have to look up to identify them, but he did anyway. It was Spliteyes and Flaxfire, both of their golden pelts seemed to glow in the late morning sun. They had just came back from morning training, it was obvious by how riled up they both were and the fact that both of their furs were slightly damp from sweat. 

Spliteyes gallivanted around in a way that always reminded Mudpatch of a great elk, cacophonous, confidant, and in great bounds. She was never quite or tried to mask her presence, that would appear foolish to most apprentices, but many warriors knew that is was because she had nothing to be afraid or be careful of. She has killed dogs before, and can outrun prey in any situation. 

Flaxfire moved in a way similar to Spliteyes’ yet distinct. Her paws fell silently while she seemingly mimed Spliteyes’ reckless bodily throws. Yet, she was filled with effortless grace, in a way that a seasoned predator is. She knew she would never have the weight advantage Spliteyes had, but still gave her best effort to mimicry. Why? Mudpatch’s personal theory was that it was a secretly cunning move that would trick others into thinking that she was naive, while she would use her amazing speed to get behind them when their guard was down and quickly snap their necks.

Of course, that could always just be a projection of what he would do had he have been in her situation. But Flaxfire had come such a long way from a blind and naive hero worshiper. Her show of idiocy and perfect imitation was often snapped away when she was alone with the 'Big Four and Associates’ as their group had been dubbed. So it wasn't entir-

“You really shouldn't play with your food like that.” cut off a gentle voice, he realized he had been idly poking at his meal the entire time he was staring at the two cats. “And I thought you weren't into she-cats? Has my little brother FINALLY gone through puberty?”

“You are five minutes older than me.” He drawled back, that was his sister, all right. “And no, I was thinking about Flaxfire’s progress. You're awfully perverted for a medicine cat.”

Dapplestream shot him a full-toothed grin that would of warmed his heart if he had one. He just stared at her some more. “So what exactly do you need of me?” He prompted after one too many beats.

Dapplestream gasped theatrically “I cannot believe you think that I want something of you! Can I not want to have a good ol’ conversation with my favourite brother?”

“I’m your only brother.” He retorted. “If this is about Addershade’s treatment again you know I don’t do herbs ex-”

“No! No, it’s not Addershade this time.” She cut him off, tone switching from playful to serious in a second. “There’s… Something I think you might want to see.”

Mudpatch’s ear flicked. “Alright, where are we going?”

Dapplestream didn’t say anything more, instead she just jestered to follow with a quick turn of her head and started leading him to… The nursery? That was odd. When Dapplestream usually wanted a second opinion on something, it was on a corpse(cat or prey) she had mysteriously found on one of her nighttime wanderings or to show him a hart at the Deer Graveyard that was decaying weirdly. Mudpatch didn't do kits. They screamed and cried when he got within a certain radiance and he had never been in the nursery because of that.

Dapplestream wiggled through the break in the massive log that had most likely been from an equally massive oak. He watched as the moss snagged on her fur and privately wondered how fat, pregnant queens got in. The hole may be small but it was most likely for defense, if it was too hard to get in larger predators or outsiders wouldn't be able to get in. It seemed useless if what it was supposed to be defending were stuck outside. Mudpatch squatted down as much as he could, basically into a hunter’s crouch. It was still quite a tight fit, he was very tall. 

Then, right on cue, there were a chorus of panicked kitten mewls. The somehow sharp(even after all this time) edge scratched his back and he winced at the too harsh feeling. Maybe the queens liked to get a good scratch every now and then. 

Some of the older kits dodged behind their mothers. The screaming continued. He disliked children.

Dapplestream got behind him and started physically pushing him towards one of the nests. Mudpatch allowed it to happen because he's already here and his sister seemed nervous. The nest he's led too was being stood over by a worried looking Quailwing.

“Does he really have to be here?” She hurriedly said in a warbling tone, shifting over the four kits that were most likely under her judging from the cries he'd counted. 

The statement didn't bother Mudpatch himself. She had all the reason to be protective. The kits couldn't have been more than a couple days old and he had a history of dismembering small furry things. But Dapplestream bristled and had to repress a hiss. “Yes, he has to be here.” Protective, darling Dapplestream. Always was first to make cats treat him half-way normal “Move the ones you aren't worried about.”

Quailwing gathered all four kits and moved them to Honeybrair’s nest and both queens started mumbling to each other. All four though? He peered into the flattened half cocoon of moss, leaves, sticks, and feathers to find a large, fifth kit.

It was a red tabby with fluffier fur around the extremities and tufted ears. It wasn't crying or squirming, so Mudpatch assumed it was dead. The kit was too big for it to be from weakness and the healthy sheen on it's glossy pelt said it couldn't be a diese. The fur wasn't mussed either, so there's no proof of an accidental smothering. He decided to chalk it up Sudden Kit Death Syndrome. A shame, the clan would be short another future warrior.

He glances, confused at his sister. wasn't the medicine cat supposed to know more about health than the normal warrior? He wasn't exactly the normal warrior though.

“Look closer.” She whispered. So he did, and was utterly shocked to find it‘s breathing.

He whipped his head up to look at Dapplestream again. “It can’t be deafness.”

“That’s what I thought at first, deafness.” Chimed in Quailwing with a worried tone. “But she doesn't cry at all! Even when she’s hungry! She’ll just wait until I’m there and come closer!”

Mudpatch’s aura hadn't caused any reaction in the kit either. “She can’t be like Kestrelflight either, I throw him off too.” He muttered, mostly to himself.

Dapplestream locked eyes with him, something concerned and calculating in them. “I think she’s like you, Mudpatch.” Her voice was even softer than normal.

“What?” He asked. Not panicked, just curious. Like him? How could she tell?

“Mother told me about what you were like as kit once,” She had began, searching his face for some sort of reaction. There was none. “She said that you were exactly like that and she had thought you were blind, deaf, and mute.” Mudpatch gazed back down at the kitten, just like him…

If he could really feel, he imagined that he would feel the ‘swell of hope’ in his chest like Dapplefeather sometimes described.

“What’s her name?” He requests in a soft voice, surprising even himself.

Everyone in the nursery seemed shocked until Quailwing spoke up. “Her name is Foxkit.”

Foxkit… It fits, he thought. “I’ll have to examine her-” He began in the same tone.

Quailwing suddenly sprinted from her spot pressed against the wall to stand above her kit. All her fur was puffed up and she snarled in a sobbing way, “You cannot take her! Even if she'll turn out as bad as you! She is my kit and I will not let you play your games and kill an innocent child!”

Mudpatch was perplexed, he wondered if he did something wrong. Quailwing wailed on about there being a line, even for him. His face was twisted up in confusion and ears pinned back as he turned to his sister with an expression that says simply, ‘help’.

Dapplestream sighed heavily. “She thinks you want to experiment.”

That… Makes no sense. “Did I say that?” He questioned.

“No, but you shouldn't use the words 'examine’ and 'kit’ in the same sentence with what you get up to.” She responded. “Explain what you mean to her.”

Quailwing was still in angry mother mode and her gaze was quickly darting from sibling to sibling. “I meant, I'll have to psychologically examine her.” Mudpatch elaborated “Be around her a lot, talk to her.”

Quailwing seemed relieved for a moment, but then stopped halfway through stepping away from her daughter. “Wait… Does that mean you'll teach her…. Your ways too?” And the panic was back.

He inclined his head and found this entire ordeal exhausting. “If she requests me to, yes.” He responded curtly.

Quailwing looked about ready to start her yowling again when Dapplestream spoke up, “Would you rather her turn out like Houndpaw?”

Mudpatch could physically see the ‘icy hand of fear’ that had been described to him take hold of her heart, reflected in the dawning horror of her face. “No.” She responded meekly.

Dapplestream nodded in a sort of satisfied way, “Great! Come to me as soon as she opens her eyes and we'll start having Muddy here and Foxkit get acquainted.” She shot a sweet smile so false it made his teeth hurt and left an unsaid 'Got a problem with that?’ at the end of her sentence.

All the queens and even some of the kits approaching 6 moons nodded as meekly as Quailwing had said no. Both Dapplestream and Mudpatch ducked out of the nursery.

After a moment of silence where they padded over to his abandoned breakfast to share it, Dapplestream piped up, mouth full, “It's going to be weird to have a mini-Mud around.”

He swallowed before responding, “I suppose it will be.”

“I saw you back in the Nursery there.” She said in a smug, high-pitched tone. “You likeeee the idea of having an apprentice like you, don’cha?”

Mudpatch gave her a deadpan look. “I'm just intrigued. Nothing to get excited over.”

Dapplestream just giggled like how Lichenrunner does when Flaxfire acknowledges her existence. Mudpatch sighed, this was going to be a very long day.


End file.
